


Dying for a fag

by skinsuit



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Jon is a lightweight, Jon's very bachelor flat, M/M, Martin catches feels, Pre-Season/Series 01, TW: Vomit, drunk archivist, the oak & owl pub, tw: alcohol, tw: smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23430040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinsuit/pseuds/skinsuit
Summary: Jon is promoted to Archivist, so everyone uses that as excuse to have a piss up. Jon is  a light weight and Martin has to take care of him. Jon is also the type who wants to smoke when drinking.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 4
Kudos: 74





	Dying for a fag

Martin wasn’t sure how Tim convinced Jon to celebrate his promotion with a piss up at the pub, but they did. He was enjoying himself, feeling slightly warm and content as he hadn’t had much in the way of booze and it didn’t really affect him. He looked over at his co-workers Tim and Sasha were going shot for shot. Rosie was sipping a glass of wine and chatting with Diana. Elias had ducked out early, claiming he had other commitments… And Jon was slumped over on a bar stool, now, not looking well or sober.

Martin felt guilty, they (well mostly Tim) had ‘convinced' Jon to do those shots and he looked worse for wear. 

“Erm, you think Jon is alright?” He asked Tim.

“What? Two drink Jonny,” Tim said with a laugh. “He’s fine, just can’t hold his booze. He’ll be alright.”

“I didn’t even want to do thish,” Jon slurred. His head sliding from the elbows that had been propping it up and onto the bar. 

“You wanted to celebrate too,” Sasha remarked. 

That was true, Jon had been quite proud of his promotion to head archivist and had made short speech about how things were going to get better now. But after a pint and three shots of vodka, he wasn’t exactly sober enough to be happy or anything.

Martin put down his drink and went over to Jon.

“You want me to call a cab for you?” He asked.

Jon stared at him hazily for a long period of time, he’d never seen Jon so completely sozzled. “Yes… that’sh.. that’s an excellent idea.”

So Martin called and cab would be coming soon. 

“They are on their way, “ Martin said. 

“Good, I’m going to wait for themsh,” Jon said and tried to get off his stool but rather began to slide off off it onto the floor. 

Martin caught him Jon’s body was light, warm and sharp in his arms: “Ups-a- daisy, Ermm I’ll help you.”

“Don’t want your help…” Jon muttered trying to paw off Martin’s hands.

“Can you walk?” Martin asked not releasing Jon.

“Ugh… no.” Jon conceded.

“Right.” Martin said.

He half carried Jon outside to wait for the cab. It was pleasantly brisk early spring night and not raining to much. They stood and waited for a while.

Jon smacked his lips and said: “I’m dying for a fag.”

“What?” Martin asked.

“I could really use a cigarette.” Jon repeated. “Gimme one.”

“I don’t have one?” Martin said.

“What?” Jon with drunken incredulousness. 

“I don’t smoke, “ Martin said defensively.

“What?! Why not?” Jon asked.

“…because I don’t?”

“You should I need a fag so badly. You’ve failed me as an assistant by not smoking when I really need a cigarette!” Jon ranted.

“Look there is store on the corner we can go in and buy you a pack?” Martin said.

“But the cab is coming soon, I can’t just walk away…” Jon began then held up his hand. “I don’t feel so good….”

Then the archivist vomited a surprising amount. Martin was slightly amazed at someone so thin and small could contain so much vomit. It splattered on the wall and in the street but thankfully not on Martin’s shoes. When it was over Jon wiped his mouth and bracing against Martin stood up. 

The cab arrived. Jon told Martin his address and Martin told the cabbie and got in.

“Do you have a cigarette?” Jon asked the cabbie.

“You can’t smoke in here.” The cabbie said.

“Who said I was, I just want a cigarette, can’t I get one in this city?” Jon whined.

“I’m sorry about my friend, he’s not in a good way,” Martin said. “He won’t be any trouble.”

“I can see that,” the cabbie remarked. “You’ll keep him civil right?”

“Yes,” Martin said.  
It was then that Jon passed out head slumped against Martin’s shoulder. His breathing was regular and he was warm and slightly heavy against Martin’s shoulder. In spite of the vomit, in spite of drunken ranting a few minutes ago. He looked peaceful and handsome in the dim of the back seat. Martin began to blush, why? Why did he want to kiss this stupid, sulky, drunk asshole? He wasn’t because Jon was asleep and in no way could he consent. But Martin sighed it was hopeless, like Jon would ever consider him or look at him like that. Why did he feel anything, it wasn’t fair to feel like this this ache inside that had just begun right now.

The cab pulled to a halt. Jon muttered and stirred.

“I’m leaving, I’ll pay you backsh.” Jon said. He got out the other doors of the cab and onto the street. He was slightly steadier on his feet

Martin paid the fare.

“You’re wasting your time with him,” said the cabbie.

“It’s not like that, he’s my co-worker. I’m just helping out.” Martin said, blushing.

“Sure it is,” Thee cabbie said taking the money and pulling away.

Martin turned back to find Jon talking to a tramp and smoking a cigarette. Jon finished the cigarette smoking it to the filter then stubbing it out underfoot. The tramp had wandered away.

“At least some people smoke around here,” Jon said in a disgruntled tone. “I needed that.” 

Then stumbled a bit. Martin propped him up, he got Jon in the building and up to Jon’s flat. Jon was rambling now about filing systems, how more people should smoke, Tim was a bastard who kayaked and other nonsense. They reached the door Jon attempted to get the key in the lock but was too drunk.  
Sighing Martin took it from him and opened the door. The light switch was by the door, Martin flicked it on and looked at the saddest flat he’d ever seen. There was white carpeting, a mattress covered by a fitted sheet with a pillow. A stack of books by the mattress and tv plugged into the wall. There was a closet in the left hand wall. To the right was a galley kitchen and from the gurgling beyond Martin presumed a bathroom. It looked so empty! Martin had about the same arrangement, he had to admit, but he had a proper bed and like plants and knick-knacks and…. This was sad. Jon was starting to wobble. Martin laid him down on the mattress. Turned Jon on his side and got up to leave.

As he switched off the light and closed the door. He swore he heard: ‘anks, Martin.” 

Martin walked down the hallway feeling warm, happy and embarrassed all at once.


End file.
